When we met, you were 13, and I was 9. You were a bright, red-headed curious thing into skateboarding, swimming, biking, fishing, adventure, and skipping school.
I was a shy wallflower whose parents had just gotten divorced. Now our parents had decided to bring us, your brother, and my sister on a weekend getaway to your dad’s houseboat to all get to know each other.
It was the summer of 1975, and we piled into the back of your dad’s yellow Toyota truck with our suitcases, towels, snacks, coolers, games, and drinks.Read more on themighty.com